Two AM
by ErinNovelist
Summary: After the fire in the warehouse and Yugi nearly dying in the duel with Bandit Keith, the Pharaoh's worse fears get the best of him


**_Two AM_**

© ErinNovelist, October 2011

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><p>The night was too quiet for the spirit of the Puzzle's liking; the vast darkness of the evening hour had settled in some time ago as the light of day retreated without so much a word of greeting or of it taking its leave. It was as if everything, even Mother Nature, was aware of the events that transpired earlier some point after the break of dawn. Yami, the inhabitant of the five-millennia old Millennium Puzzle, had known silence for thousands of years, and each time he was forced to endure it long after his Hikari – Yugi - had freed him from the confines of the shadows, a sense of panic flooded his core. It lipped at the edges of his mind, and he feared that he would once more sink into the ominous air that had kept him prisoner for all this time.<p>

However, that feeling, no matter how horrid, did not compare at all to the one he felt this morning.

The hallway lights streamed into the occupied hospital room as the metal door swung open, illuminating the pale figure lying in front of Yami. It was Yugi under the thin blankets the nursing staff provided with him, connected to the machines, and the tubes running over his young and fragile form. A fiery, little redhead (assuming she was a nurse) had stepped in, checking the fifteen-year-old's vitals before leaving a pitcher of water on his bedside table in case he were to wake up in dire need of thirst. Yami was perched on the chair beside the bed, his head in his hands as he closed his eyes as if the image was physical burdening him. Before the door swung shut, the sound of rolling gurneys, hushed voices, and obnoxious beeping filtered into Yami's ears.

_This isn't supposed to be this way. It should not be this way at all. Yugi should be at home with his grandfather, not lying in this hospital bed. _Yami paused his train of thought.

Yami supposed he should be grateful at the very least; Yugi would be out of this place by mid-morning at the earliest tomorrow, away from the stoic doctors and cheerful, chatty orderlies. His burns were mediocre; the specialist predicted Joey and Tristan's were worse off in that department except for Yugi's hands. Yami's amethyst eyes flickered to the man with the ebony spikes and magenta sheen and golden fringe plastered across his forehead. His hands, pale and frail, were laid above the sheet that covered his lower body; gauze had been wrapped from the wrist, across his thump, and up the palm. His fingertips were burned slightly from being in contact with heated metal. Yami shook his head, noting the golden shine emitting from the Millennium Puzzle.

Yugi had suffered putting the Puzzle back together. No matter how many times Yami wished he could have been coherent enough to warn his partner to break away from the ancient artifact to save his own life, there was no doubting the fact that the teenager would have not listened to his protector. Yami growled internally, hoping his frustration would not transfer through the mind link. Yugi needed his sleep, and to awake the slumbering boy would caused the spirit more turmoil than good. It irked him to no other end though – how could Yugi have risked his life for _him_ of all people? He who was a parasite leeching off of Yugi ever since the Puzzle was solved. If Joey and Tristan hadn't barged in when they had, Yugi might have.

Yami halted his actions and huffed rather loudly. He would not let his worries get to his head right now. He had more important things to concentrate on at the current moment. His fears about the new Millennium Item and latest villain meant more than his fears of earlier – what happened to him earlier. When the Millennium Puzzle had been shattered, Yami had been vaulted back into the very darkness that claimed him for five thousand years before. It struck the spirit to his very heart, and for the second, the slight second, he doubted that he would never come back.

A solitary tear trekked down Yami's cheek before evaporating the minute it left his face. That darkness was his worse fear – after losing his partner, of course. Did that darkness have a name – that cruelity? Does that darkness have a name – was it his name?

Yami took in a shaky breath. He attempted to pull himself together. Tomorrow, he would become the protector once more. At this moment of weakness would never again be shared. Not even with Yugi.


End file.
